


The Quiet Moments Alone

by hislightherdarkness



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse, Millory - Fandom
Genre: Afterglow, Cuddling, F/M, soft things because i need it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-01 04:27:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17860277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hislightherdarkness/pseuds/hislightherdarkness
Summary: A sort of continuation from my first Millory fic, can be seen as note. Just some good ole fluff.





	The Quiet Moments Alone

The gentle beating of her heart was beautiful to Michael; it made him realize just how real it was, how real she was. She was too perfect and wonderful for him and yet he couldn't help but to feel grateful that it was he that she loved. Grateful that she let hold her hand, hug her, kiss her, make love to her. He smiled into her chest, his hands pulling her closer to him. Mallory let out a breathy giggle, her fingers twirling in his hair. He was so beautiful like this, calm and happy. Outside this small house, the world painted them as enemies, two sides destined to be opposed. But in here, in this little house, everything was as it should have been.

"I don't want to leave here," Michael says softly against her skin.

"Neither do I, but life must go on," Mallory tried to reason, despite her own desire to stay like this.

"Why can't they just get along? Must everything be a fight?"

"I suppose that is the fault of humans," she mused, "To always be at odds when no one agrees."

A silence fell over them. It would be difficult to tell the witches and the warlocks about their relationship. They barely could believe or even agree with the idea of them being friends, hearing that they were in love would perhaps cause a fight that neither one of them wanted.

The silence was broken by the loud gargling of Mallory's stomach. The couple burst into a laughing fit, the absurdity of the moment, a happy reminder of reality.

As his laughter died down, Michael looked up and asked, "Sounds like someone is hungry. Like me to make you something?"

A giggle escaping her smiling lips, Mallory nodded. She watched as Michael slipped away from her, reaching to slip on his boxers and disappeared into the kitchen. She took the moment alone to asset the remains of their lovemaking, slipping his black button down shirt on and going into the bathroom. Already, she found red-purple marks on her neck and shoulder. She smiled at the sight, knowing that while she could easily make the marks disappear, but she wanted to keep them for her own. A perfect secret between him and her. Splashing water on her face and ran her fingers through her hair, she stepped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Michael stood before the fridge, his arms keeping the doors open, looking around for something.

Wrapping her arms around his bare body, she peaked from under his arm. "Careful, any moment penguins are going to invade our kitchen."

He smiled. "Our kitchen. I like that." His arm brought her closer. "See anything you like?"

Looking, Mallory pulled out a bag of red apples. "Well?"

"Sounds perfect." Slipping away from him, Mallory set the bag on the table, going to the drawer and pantry closet. "What are you doing?" Michael asked, sitting down.

"Making cinnamon-sugar apples." Looking at his confused face, Mallory returned it with a shocked face. "You're telling me you never had cinnamon-sugar apples? Oh no, Michael!"

"Grandma never made that for me," he explained as she grabbed a bowl, "Once I grew up, she didn't want to do anything with me. We didn't have much time together."

Mallory knew Michael had a difficult past with his grandmother, the one who killed herself rather than be with a confused child. Granted he did some terrible things, but how can you blame someone who was being led by the voice he doesn't know how to control? "Well, you'll love this. My granny used to make these for me whenever I stayed with her." She took an apple and with the apple slicer, she made Michael look at the apple in wonder as it sliced and fanned out perfectly. "We would eat these as we watched those old movies together."

Michael smiled. "She sounded wonderful."

Nodding, her eyes became glassy. "She was. After my parents found me floating in my bed, they didn't want me to stay. Granny let me stay with her until I went to Robichaux's Academy. She was the only person that accepted me as I was, until the witches."

"And me," Michael added, taking her small hand into his.

Smiling back, Mallory squeezed his hand. "Always." Taking it back, she continued to cut two more apples, putting the slices in the bowl and sprinkled an even amount of sugar and cinnamon. "Lo and behold!" She presented to him their snack.

"Smells wonderful!  Here, let me make us a drink.” He hopped from his spot and pulled out two tall glasses, milk and chocolate syrup. “Make it extra chocolatey,” Michael murmured to himself.

As she watched him, she smiled to herself, suppressing a laugh. There was always this childlike side to Michael, even with all the teachings and the trauma he had went through, there was still that innocent boy underneath it all. That strong will of wanting to be good, to be his own person and not what everyone else wanted him to be, it was wonderful to see. And it was Mallory who got to see that side of him that he wouldn’t let anyone else see.

Sliding her glass towards her, he took his and sat back down. “Here we are. Enjoy.” Taking an apple slice, Michael bit into it and his eyes went wide. “WOW.”

“I know, right?” Mallory asked, biting into her slice.

“This is amazing! Is this a witchy treat?”

Laughing, Mallory answered, “No, just every child’s favorite snack. Or at least anyone that had a grandma.” Realizing her choice of words, she saw Michael flash a sad smile. “But I don’t every grandmother makes you watch _The Sound of Music_ with her.”

Eating another slice, Michael said, “I never meant to make her mad. I thought I was making her happy, she didn’t seem to mind the dead animals. She would always bury them and plant roses, she never told me that it was wrong or to stop. That’s why I couldn’t understand her anger about the priest.”

Mallory shuddered at the memory. Michael told her everything; the poor bunnies, the priest, his Grandmother and where he came from as well as what was expected of him. From what she heard from him, it seemed as if what Michael lacked was guidance and affection. Mallory had a talent of knowing when people were being truthful, different from Michael’s ability to tell when people lie. Mallory sought to find the good in others, and when Michael speaks to her, she feels his desire to be good rolling off of him.

“I don’t know what I am supposed to do, how I am supposed to be. Everyone wants me to be different things; the Satanists want me to bring the end of times, the warlocks their pawn over the witches, and to the witches I am nothing but a symbol of hate.”

Taking his hand, Mallory pressed it to her heart. “To me you are Michael. And no one has any right to tell you who you are but you.”

This is what he loved about her; she was able to see him as he was, not what she wanted him to be. With her, he finally was able to discover what sort of person he could be, to find the possibilities of his own life. Kissing her forehead, they continued to hold hands as they ate.

Sometime later, with most of the slices gone, the milk down to its last sip, Michael and Mallory sat on the ground, her legs on his lap and his hands running up and down her smooth legs. “So yeah, it was a shock to me, but as a little kid who dreamed of flying, it was pretty cool,” Mallory laughed.

“So what did you do?” Michael asked in between laughs.

“I put on this old cape and fake fangs I had from Halloween, flew around the living room and yelled, ‘I vant to suck your blood!’” She laughed harder, recalling the memory. “Suffice to say it didn’t make them happy. But, they didn’t like me anyway after that so, it worked out.”

“Wasn’t tough though,” he asked, “Feeling like you didn’t belong?”

She thought for moment and then asked, “Have you ever read _Matilda_? It’s this kid’s book about a little girl who was very smart and could move things with her mind. I remember reading that and for a while I felt like I was Matilda. Just like in the movie, I would point to things and make them go haywire. I would make breakfast, brush my hair and packed my own lunch. I even walked around with the little red ribbon in my hair just like she did. I can’t lie, I looked pretty cute. She was my hero growing up.” Looking at Michael, he had a look on his face that Mallory couldn’t figure. “What?”

“It’s just,” he sighed, smiling, “Your face. When you were telling that, you looked so beautiful.”

Her smile grew, leaning forward to kiss him. As the kiss grew, Michael’s arms slipped under her, carrying her back to the bedroom, once again lost in love.

Mallory rested against his chest, his arm around her shoulders, her small hands just barely covering his one. She brought the hand to her lips, leaving little kisses on the palm. Michael smiled lazily, his face burying in her hair. “Promise me, Michael?”

“Anything.”

She turned to sit up and looked at him. “No matter what happens, the moment we tell them, no matter how hard they will try, that we will never give up on each other. That nothing will keep us apart. Promise?”

Michael’s fingers glided up and down her back. “Promise. I’ll never let anyone take you away from me.”

Pressing herself against him, they shared a passionate kiss, a promise sealed. Resting her head against his chest, his arms encircled her, keeping her close to him. She could hear his heartbeat, the heart that beat for her. For the quiet moments alone like this, going against the world would be worth it.


End file.
